We Are the Reckless
by Im-Weird-Kay
Summary: 5 boys, 5 completely different personalities. Levi, the loud-mouthed wannabe; Eren, the not-so-tough jock; Armin, the shy smarty-pants; Jean, the pretty boy; and Erwin, the overzealous overachiever. Fate decides to have 5 teenage boys spend a day in detention together, but who knew that being locked in a stuffy old room together could be the start of something so damn interesting?
1. Eren the Jock

**Notes: 'Ello! So, I posted this yesterday on Archive of Our Own, so I decided to post it on here as well! 2 things:1) There will be romantic pairings in this story, but overall, this story is going to focus heavily on the friendship aspects of these 5 weirdos. 2) If anyone actually reads this story and happens to like it, there is definitely a position open to be a Beta reader, if anyone's interested...**

So...ENJOY!

**_Eren; the Jock_**

_Beep-Beep. _

_Beep-Beep_

_Beep-Be_

A loud crack could be heard as a fist slammed down against the relentless alarm clock, ceasing its tedious beeping, possibly forever due to the sheer force of the hit.

Rays of sunlight seeped through the blue-shaded curtains of a bedroom, soaking up every inch of darkness until there was none left. The brightness shined directly onto the face of a brown-haired male, causing the newly awoken figure to groan loudly and stir in his bed. He loathed Monday mornings. He grabbed a pillow near his head and shoved it over himself, covering both his mouth and his nose in an attempt to block out all oxygen from his nasal passages, pass out, and have an excuse as to not get out of his bed.

In retrospect, it was a terribly thought out idea, but with only half of your brain cells awake and a wedgie crammed up your ass, what could one expect?

A sudden pounding on his bedroom door startled him, knuckles banging against the wood with enough intensity to shake the walls. A feminine, yet powerful voice could be made out from the other side.

"Eren, get the hell up. I refuse to be late AGAIN just because you have the speed of a baby sloth. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed before I come in and drag your ass out, whether you're fully clothed or not. Hurry up, you have football practice and I have a meeting with the student council."

Unfortunately for him, the girl's words weren't that of a threat, but of a promise; his mind wandered to the time in middle school when he failed to adhere by her strict schedule and ended up spending the whole school day in his SpongeBob onesie that he used to wear at night. The thought alone was enough to have him completing his morning routine in lightning speed, leaving him breathless by the time he'd finished. Eren flew down the stairs, completing his timed task of fifteen minutes with exactly one minute to spare. He was greeted with the sight of his adoptive sister, Mikasa, at the bottom of the staircase, looking as pristine as ever in her usual sophisticated school outfit.

Being of Asian heritage, her skin was naturally paler compared to the sun-kissed skin of Eren's. Her shiny pitch-black tresses hung loosely, stopping at the very tips of her broad shoulders. Mikasa's chocolate eyes were that of a mystery, portraying not even an ounce of what she was feeling inside. Though, after living with the female for a substantial amount of time, Eren had learned how to read her based on other factors, such as her body language. Eren, on the other hand, had always been an open book to Mikasa; he'd always been one willing to express how he felt regardless of the situation.

She regarded his disheveled appearance with amusement. And disheveled he was – his brown locks seeming to defy gravity as strands stood straight up on top of his head. Deep, dark circles formed underneath his eyes, Mikasa having an inkling that Eren's late-night video game session was the culprit. His football jersey, a large yellow-colored number '5' adorning the back of the clothing and the sides of his short sleeves, was tragically wrinkled, along with his purposefully tattered blue jeans. His Converses were filthy, smudges of mud due to various night of football playing displayed ubiquitously on both the actual shoes and the laces. Eren looked like a bum compared to Mikasa, her suave attire of a white blouse, a red blazer, khaki skinny jeans and red flats enough to make him _almost _want to try harder when it came to clothes. It definitely wasn't that his family didn't have the income for him to buy nicer clothes on a regular basis, but truth be told…Eren just didn't give a shit. Who was he trying to impress? He liked his messy, never-put-together look, and nobody could honestly say that it didn't fit in nicely with his naturally carefree attitude.

"Nice shoes." Mikasa teased fondly as she mentally shook her head at her brother's lack of style. She swore that that jersey of his was the only thing he wore on a daily basis. Eren rolled his eyes with his lips turned up subtly into a smile as he brushed past her in in order to retrieve himself something to eat before the duo departed for school. A yellow sticky note stuck to the fridge soon caught his attention, detaching the piece of paper and bringing it closer towards him in order to read the tidy handwriting that he instantly recognized as his mothers'.

**_'Your father and I will be working late at the hospital tonight. Left some money for a pizza on the counter. You two be good. Love you both. :)'_**

A twinge of sadness struck Eren's heart after he finished reading the note. He and Mikasa had barely seen their parents at all in the last month due to the couple's unwavering commitments to their jobs. Drs. Grisha and Carla Jaeger had worked as surgeons in Trost Hospital for over a decade. Being deemed the best surgeons in the state, they'd earned themselves high positions in the medical field that called for them to work long and hard hours. Eren knew that his parent's jobs were important, as they'd helped to save many lives over the course of their careers, but it didn't make Eren miss their family time any less.

"They're working late again?" Mikasa asked, causing Eren to jump when he realized that amidst his thoughts, his sister had walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder as she read over the note for herself. Eren nodded absentmindedly before scrunching up the note in between his hand and throwing it into the garbage.

"Yup. Wanna order a pizza and rent a movie tonight? I'm thinking a Spider-Man marathon." He smiled, attempting to hide his obvious disappointment of their parents' absence, but ultimately failing as Mikasa saw right through the façade. She decided to not point it out, though, choosing to offer him a smile right back.

"Sounds like a plan, Spidey."

After a twenty-minute ride filled with both Eren and Mikasa rapping equally obnoxiously loud to a Nicki Minaj song, the 11th graders pulled into the scarcely populated parking lot of the building they'd been acquainted with ever since their ninth grade year – Trost High. The juniors hopped out of the expensive, sleek, all-black Mercedes Benz that'd been bought for them to share by their parents and headed in their respective directions, Eren to the locker room to prepare for early morning practice as quarterback of the football team before school starts for the day and Mikasa to the front office for an emergency meeting with student council. She'd been the school's treasurer ever since she was in the ninth grade, her impressive grades enough for her to be the youngest student to ever earn the title.

Eren reached the locker room in no time, other members of the football team clad in towels and variously numbered jerseys, and he greeted several of his teammates as he walked to his locker. Opening the metal door of the compartment, he was suddenly grateful that he'd taken a shower before he left so he wouldn't have to wait for a shower to become available. He grabbed his safety equipment, including but not limited to a mouthpiece, a helmet, and kneepads, and proceeded to put them on. He neglected to notice during him tying up his cleats that a male, freshly out of the shower and only a thin towel wrapped around his waist, had approached him.

The boy was of average height, his toned stomach glistening with drops of water as they dripped off his body. His hair was a light ash-brown color, the back and sides of his hair trimmed shorter than the rest and dyed dark brown. His small hazel eyes were intense, glowing with a hint of mischief wherever he went. His face was narrowly rounded, resembling that of a horse, and in turn, earning him the nickname 'horse-face' around his comrades. Eren was proud to admit that he'd coined the name himself.

"Yo, Jaeger. Dude, you look like hell. What the fuck did you do this morning, comb your hair with a rake?" the boy said, mustering up a few laughs from his fellow athletes. Eren ignored the comment for a few moments, opting to finish his task at hand before responding. Once he deemed his cleats to be properly tied, he angled his head upwards towards, glaring venomously at his least favorite teammate, Jean Kirschtein, the teams' wide receiver.

Not to mention the teams' captain.

The two had been rivals ever since they'd both joined the team in the 10th grade, a strong hatred for Jean just coming naturally to Eren, particularly after Jean's futile attempts to hook up with Mikasa ever since they'd entered high school. It hadn't helped the situation at all when they'd both tried out to be the team captain, but jean ended up with the title.

However, it was quite ironic that they considered themselves to be the mortal enemy of the other while many of their mutual friends had shamelessly expressed that the two couldn't have been more alike personality-wise. They were both strong-headed, passionate, and always willing to protect those that mattered the most to them, regardless of the circumstances.

"Horse-face, although it's always such a _pleasure_ to listen to your neighing, I'd rather not today. So, if you could kindly saddle yourself up and trot your ass away from me, it'd be much appreciated." Eren finished with a sickeningly sweet smile, his reply earning numerous "ooh's" from the others in the room. Jean's eyes narrowed into slits, his smirk quickly dissipating into a snarl.

"Watch it, Jaeger. I could have your ass on that bench for the rest of the season."

Eren scoffed, stepping a tad bit closer to Jean with his arms crossed. "Would that _really _be a good idea? You and I both know that the Championship is in a few months, and could this team really afford to lose their star quarterback at such a crucial time? Sounds like a dumb plan to me, _captain._"

"You-"Jean started, but was cut off when a sudden pressure weighed against his chest. Connie, the teams' Center, had pressed his right hand against Jean's chest, blocking the captain from stepping closer to Eren. Connie was short, the shortest player on the entire team to be exact. But he was fierce and vicious when he wanted to be, the exact traits that made him the perfect center for the team. Off the field, he was the jokester, willing to do any and everything to get a laugh from someone. On the field, though, he was passionate, able to take down and tackle players twice his size with ease.

Anger had clouded both Eren's and Jean's judgment, both momentarily forgetting that they indeed had an audience. All twenty players of the team had seen the two verbally go at it before, and it was never a pretty sight to witness. Connie pushed at both of their chests, setting them back a few steps away from each other, Connie smack dab in the middle of the two's stare down.

"Hey, take a chill pill guys. We're a few months away from winning the championship game against some of the best high school teams in America. Could we maybe, like, _not _kill each other beforehand? Sound good, muchachos?"

Eren and Jean both nodded reluctantly, eyeing one another with trepidation. Both parties had seemed to have cooled down a bit, so Connie took a chance by walking away, leaving an open space between them. Eren turned to grab his helmet off the bench, deciding that at the end of the day, Jean wasn't worth the headache or costing his team the championship. His attempt to calm himself down was working out just fine, until-

"Jeager's just mad 'cuz after we win that championship, I'll have Mikasa in my bed in _no time."_

Before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, a fist had glanced Jean's chin.

**Notes:**

**I'm already anticipating this story to be long as hell, so hopefully you guys will join me for the ride? The chapters might seem kind of short, but I can pump them out faster that way, so bear with me.**

**Anything else, Ashley...**

**OH! Your criticism, comments, and concerns are always welcome, so lemme know what you think! Until next time...**

**Deuces.**


	2. Jean the Pretty Boy

**_Notes: _****_This chapter was kinda hard to write just for the simple fact that I didn't want to fully cast Jean off as the jackass that he's portrayed as, particularly in the scene with his grandma, therefore he might seem a bit OOC. I dunno, not my best, but eh._**

**_ENJOY!_**

**_Jean; the Pretty Boy_**

Before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, a fist had glanced Jean's chin. The whole locker room went deadly silent, every other player in the room holding their breath in fear of what was about to happen next.

Jean and everyone else noticed far too late that the blow was feint, though, when a second punch had him doubling over in pain, the hit effectively expelling every ounce of air out of Jean's stomach.

Even Jean had to admit that it was one hell of a shot. Eren had always been a hot-head, getting himself into numerous fights over the course of his school career, so it was no surprise that he knew how to pack a punch. Jean, on the other hand, had always been a pretty boy, keener on keeping his hair and wardrobe straight and flawless than messing it up over a stupid argument.

It was ironic, honestly; the captain of the football team, supposedly the toughest of the tough hating helmet hair and having a full-time membership to the Abercrombie & Fitch Club.

Regardless, Jean had always _hated _having the wind knocked out of him, knowing the feeling due to years of being tackled on the football field, and the tolerable amount of pain radiating from his belly was more annoying than painful. Jean stood straight, his naturally narrow eyes bulging with rage as he stared down his opponent – Jeager, the douchebag that was the _supposed _star of the team. There wasn't a thing about the guy that Jean could even remotely tolerate. From his stupid hair (it was apparent that the dude didn't own a comb) to his six-pack abs (a feat Jean had yet to accomplish, even though he probably worked out far more than the jackass) to his lack of fashion sense (Seriously, was that jersey the only shirt he owned?), everything about Eren just screamed 'asshole' to Jean.

And Jean knew asshole because he'd always been called one himself on multiple occasions.

"You…little…" Jean took a staggering step forward towards Eren with every word. On the third, he swung. "Bitch!"

The blow was much too stagnant. Jean knew the second he launched it. Eren had a cocky look on his face after he ducked to avoid an impact, painfully aware that he had the upper hand. Before Jean could even register the dodge, however, another body shot, this one to his ribs, sent fresh ripples of pain through his torso. He didn't fall, he absolutely _refused _to let himself fall, but he came pretty damn close to it.

Jean and Eren had never been in a physical fight against one another. It was always just a rude remark here, a snide comment there, but nothing that could cause literal damage. As the captain of the team, not only did Jean realize that he looked pitiful as hell while getting his ass beat in front of his comrades, but his _reputation _was getting harmed more than anything. How could he let Eren go unscathed and risk losing the respect of his teammates?

Eren went in for another shot, but Jean shoved him off. Seeing the Eren scoot back so far against the weight of it gave him a second wind out of the blue. Jean covered the distance between them, throwing three more punches that did land.

Eren fell.

Jean smiled victoriously.

Eren quickly recovered and got back up.

Jean cursed the heavens.

Quite frankly, it was a surreal sight to Jean, seeing someone recover so quickly from his patented left-right-left Kirstein hook.

Which, to be honest, shouldn't have been that much of a surprise since it was the first time he'd ever actually used the move in his life.

Plus, a few punches to the head probably wasn't even enough to remotely throw Eren off his game. Nonetheless, it was a sight that Jean wanted to see. He threw a haymaker, Eren narrowly dodging it by a centimeter. In turn, Eren responded with a hit of his own, opting for an uppercut.

_Click._

The sound of Jean's upper and lower rows of teeth violently clashing sickened him, but he stubbornly kept to his feet, refusing to let himself give up. He decided to face the problem head-on, literally, and tackled Eren head-first into the stomach, bringing them both to the ground. The boys tussled, tossing and turning on the floor with neither of them gaining any type of upper hand. It wasn't until a hand grabbed at the collars of both of their shirts, pulling both of them up that they decided to end the brief brawl.

"JAEGER, KIRSCHTEIN, WHAT THE _HELL _IS GOING ON?!" A voice boomed, ceasing all struggling from Eren and Jean as their faces went slack in horror. Behind them, in all his muscular glory, was assistant coach Braun. Braun graduated from Trost High as the former captain of the football team a few years ago, now a full-time student in college and a part time assistant coach for the football team. He had short blonde hair and light golden eyes that sparkled in certain lighting. He was broad shouldered and built like a boulder, standing at a staggering 6'2. It was no wonder that the team immediately took a liking to him after he showed up during the beginning of the year: Who wouldn't want to be on the good side of a walking skyscraper?

Jean and Eren were practically pissing their pants under Coach Braun's intense stare. They started talking and blubbering at the same time, their words mixing in along with the other's, until Braun shoved them aside, eyeing Jean's soon-to-be black eye all the while.

"You two, Coach Shadis's office. _Now." _Jean and Eren scrambled off so quickly that you could practically see the smoke emitting from underneath their shoes. The locker room was silent, no one daring to move until coach Braun spoke up.

"What the hell are y'all looking at? Practice starts in 10, and anyone that's not there on time gets the pleasure of doing 50 extra push-ups. Do I make myself clear, maggots?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"3 months. 3. Damn. Months. Do you boys happen to _know _what takes place in three months?"

Jean and Eren both opened their mouths, but quickly shut up and leant back into their chairs after Coach Shadis held up his hand towards them. Coach Shadis was an intimidating creature, standing tall and lean, and his head bald with deep wrinkles on his forehead. His light hazel eyes were surrounded by deep dark circles and crow's feet, more than likely caused by the stresses of working with hundreds and hundreds of meat-headed jocks over the course of a 20-year period. He was considered the best of the best, every team under his care since the beginning of his coaching career winning the championship.

"I want to hear neither of your pathetic voices right now. Championship. _That's _what the hell happens in a few months. And guess what? Right around the time that I need this poor excuse of a team to pull it together, two of my best players, one being the damn _captain, _decide to have a fight club session right in front of their other teammates!" Shadis shouts, slamming both of his palms down onto his desk accompanied by a loud bang, causing both Jean and Eren to jump back a bit. Jean tentatively raises his hand in order to be allowed to speak.

Shadis rolls his eyes before giving him the go-ahead, "What is it Kirstchein?"

"Well, sir, I just wanna admit something…Eren swung first."

Eren gasped, wide-eyed as a deer before they narrowed into slits, glaring dagger at Jean.

"You prick! You said you wanted to bang my SISTER."

"Oh, come ON, Jaeger. Have you not heard the guys in the locker room? Your sister is hot, she's single, and everyone's admitted to wanting to fu-"

Eren lunged out of his seat and pounced onto Jean before he could finish his sentence, getting one hit in before being thrown into the wall of Coach's office by none other than the coach himself. Eren hissed on contact with the drywall, rubbing at his slowly-bruising arm as he took in the furious look on Shadis's face.

"That. Is. _Enough." _Shadis hissed out between clenched teeth, his whole body shaking from fury. "Detention. Both of you. Saturday. If _either _of you don't show up, _both _of you won't be allowed to play at the championship. Feel lucky that I'm not suspending you two from some of the practices. BUT, if I hear anything else about you two fighting this year, you're both off the team. Point, blank, period. Do I make myself clear?"

A unanimous "Yes, sir" was heard before they were both promptly kicked out, since their meeting with coach had taken up most of their practice time and school was to start soon. Jean and Eren both eyed each other angrily as they turned to go their separate ways to prepare for the school day.

"Grandma, I'm home!" Jean yelled, kicking his shoes off at the door with his backpack in tow. A faint "Hey, love nugget!" could be heard coming from the kitchen, his grandmother's holy place in the small, one-story, 2 bedroom, one bathroom household. Although Jean's abode was definitely humble, his grandmother kept the place nice and clean, the size of the brick house doing absolutely no justice to the cozy interior.

It wasn't as if Jean and his grandmother needed any extra space, considering it was just the two of them, but even Jean could admit that it would've been nice to have the privacy of his own bathroom. After one particular afternoon involving his hand halfway down his pants and his grandmother walking in a minute later, he'd come to that conclusion the hard way.

It was by no means a long trek from the front door, through the living room, and to the kitchen, but for Jean, it was somewhat of a trip down memory lane. The living was decorated head to toe of pictures of him and his family, the main attraction being a huge picture of him on the wall from when he was about a year old, butt-ass naked with a huge, toothless smile on his face as he played in the tub. When others walked into the house, it was hard to miss, and that was part of the reason why he never had friends over, considering his grandmother absolutely refused to take it down. _It reminds me of your innocent years, _she'd say.

But, let's face it. The shit was plain embarrassing.

But, there was one particular picture that always caught his eye, sending fresh ripples of pain through his heart whenever he saw it. It was a small framed picture, burned around the edges. A man stood tall by a hospital bed in the photo, dark brown hair with piercing green eyes with an intensity about them that resembled Jean's. In the hospital bed was a tired looking woman, short and chubby, but nevertheless breathtakingly gorgeous with flowing blonde hair, light brown eyes, and a small smile that partially revealed a dimple on her left cheek. Both of their gazes loomed onto the person in her arms, a sleeping baby boy, bald and pale with a single chubby hand peeking out of the blue blanket that he was wrapped in. It was a seemingly beautiful picture, marking the beginning of a new family with their whole lives ahead of them. Or, so they all thought.

"Chicken dumpling, are you hungry?" Jean jumped out of his thoughts at the sound of his grandmother's voice, ripping his gaze off of the photo and onto the woman behind him. His grandmother was short and full-figured, just like the lady in the photo. Her hair was deathly white, pulled back into a neat bun on her head. Deep creases formed around her eyes, but the smile she was sending Jean made her look years younger than she actually was.

"Um, yeah. Thanks, Gam-Gam."

"You OK there, love? You were pretty dazed out a second ago." She asked, the worry evident in her eyes even if her smile never faltered.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just…a lot going on with the team." Jean knew she could see right through his lies, but she chose not to question him further anyhow, an act in which he was grateful.

"Oh, honey. Well, good news is I made your favorite: spaghetti and meatballs! I'll fix you a plate."

"Oh! Um, by the way, I won't be here for a little bit on Saturday. I have…plans." Jean said. _Way to not sound suspicious, Kirstchein._

"Oooooooh, who is she?" His grandmother perked up, awaiting all the juicy details, when in fact there was none.

"Gam, I don't have a _date_. Just hanging out with some friends."

"Would that 'friend' be that Mikasa girl? Isn't she that young lady whose name you were yelling out when-"

"I swear to god if you finish that sentence, I might just die and it'll be all your fault."

"You weren't exactly _quiet_, dear, I could hear you all the way in the-"

"CAN YOU GO FIX THE SPAGHETTI PLEASE?" Jean screamed out, mortified that his grandmother would think to casually bring up the embarrassment of having her walk in on him in the middle of a 'relieving' session. She chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender as she walked back towards the kitchen, leaving a final comment behind.

"Next time, maybe you should lock your door. You almost gave an old woman a heart attack."

**_Notes:_**

I just feel, eh, about this chapter. Levi is next, though, so woop woop! I actually had the most fun writing his chapter, so that'll be up soon. Lemme know what you think about this! Comments, kudos, etc. They make me HAPPEH. Question of the chapter: What did you guys think about Jean's grandma? I personally loved writing as her, haha. Anyways, um...

DEUCES.


	3. Levi the Rock Star

**_Levi; the Rock star_**

"No. No, no, _no_, Johnathan. This guy is a pot full of shit, I've told you this a thousand times." A raven-haired, petite woman spoke into her smartphone, doing her best to remain calm at the ridiculous statements being fed to her through her assistant on the other line. She moved quickly and efficiently around her newly bought, humongous abode, her black heels clacking in time to her steps as she rummaged through the fridge. She balanced her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she finally found the sliced ham she'd been looking for, taking the container of fresh meat out and setting it on her kitchen counter, along with a loaf of bread, a jar of mayo, and some mustard.

"I don't give a hot diggity damn who he's associated with, I don't trust him," she exclaimed, taking out two slices of bread from the bag, slathering one slice in mayo and the other in mustard. "Ugh, his lies are about as bad as his fucking haircut. It's the 21st century, who the fuck still wears a mullet?"

Said woman placed two slices of ham on the mayo-slathered side of the bread, placing the other slice on top and pressing down gently to get the two to hold together. She grabbed some foil and a brown paper bag out of the drawer located near the counter, using the foil to neatly wrap and protect the delicate sandwich before placing the creation in the bag. She glanced at her watch located on her right wrist, her eyes almost bugging out of their sockets after noticing that she could be late if she didn't move hastily.

"Look, I'll be at the firm in about an hour and a half. I still have to drop Noël and Levi off at school, and the last thing I need is for them to be late on their first day. Yeah, of course. Just wait for me, I'll be there soon. Alright, bye." She set her phone down, making quick work of topping the lunch she was making off with a juice box, a fruit cup, and a mini bag of animal crackers. Rather pleased with her work, she rolled the top of the bag down, grabbed a permanent marker that she always kept in a special drawer, writing 'Noël' on the side of the bag in big, bold, neat letters. The reserved owner of the lunch bag came trotting down the stairs, fully dressed with a SpongeBob backpack in tow on his tiny shoulders, complete with a bright smile that could make anyone's day.

"Morning, mum." The short, dark-haired, nine-year old boy greeted, allowing his mother to place a kiss on both of his dimpled cheeks. He set his backpack down at the foot of one of the stools near the counter, grabbed a bowl from the dish rack, a carton of milk from the fridge, and a box of Frosted Flakes in order to create his first meal of the day.

"Morning, love. Where's your brother?" The woman asked as she washed her hands, ridding them of the stink caused by mustard and mayo, before drying them off with a paper towel.

Swallowing a mouth full of flakes before answering, because the lady in the room taught him to have those manners, the boy answered almost immediately. "He's still upstairs, sleeping. I tried to wake him up before I came down, but he gave me the finger and told me to 'eff off." The nine-year old shrugged in defeat, resuming his meal as his mother sighed heavily. She straightened out her expensive, black suit jacket and pleated skirt, and walked briskly up the steps and towards her oldest son's room. She stopped in front of the highly decorated bedroom door with tired eyes, scanning the random signs plastered all over the rectangular wood, sayings ranging from "Keep Out" with a picture of a skull and crossbones located directly underneath the black bold letters, to "No Trespassing: Violators will be shot. Survivors will be shot again."

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before turning the golden knob that would lead her into her son's territory, although she knew it probably wouldn't help; she'd more than likely just end up yelling at the kid to get up before she threw a bucket of water over his head.

She'd done it before and she'd do it again with no hesitation.

Having no intentions of keeping her actions quiet because her kid should've been up an hour ago, she threw the door open, causing a loud bang as the wood knocked into the wall behind it. The target of her mission in question hadn't even stirred from the ruckus; he was still fast asleep, turned onto his stomach with his head facing the opposite direction of the door. His covers had been kicked onto the floor, causing a small smile to edge its way onto his mother's face. Ever since he was young, he'd always been a heavy sleeper, a wild one at that.

He was the poster boy for a stereotypical teenager: He was rebellious, cursed liked a sailor (although, he may have picked that up from her, though she'd never admit it), had a passion for rock music and everything loud, and practically lived on fast food. The only thing that separated him from the norm was his extreme cleanliness. His room was pristine; there was nothing lying on the floor, all his clothes were folded neatly into drawers, his guitar he got last Christmas was standing upright on its stand in the corner, and all the posters that hung on his wall were lined up perfectly with one another. He had inherited his neat-freak personality from his mother, and it was the only thing besides his looks that actually convinced her that he was legitimately her son.

Don't get her wrong, though. She loved her son to bits and pieces, and even if he was a pain in the ass when he wanted to be, she wouldn't trade the teen for anything in the world. But, heaven knows that if someone would've told her that kids can cause serious gray hairs at an early age, she would've grabbed the nearest contraceptive so fast and shoved them so far up her–

Giving her watch a quick glance, she noted the everyone would indeed be late for everything if this little shit didn't get up as of right now.

She walked further in, groping the wall for the light switch, and flicked the device on. Her ears caught on to a low groan that omitted from the still figure, letting her know that the unwelcome light had slightly awoken the usually grumpy young man.

"Mornin', sleeping beauty." She mocked, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall, her son attempting to block out her voice and the light by grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his head. She rolled her eyes, crossing the short distance to snatch the fluffy object out of his grasp and fling it away. Her patience was growing thin already, and she was in no mood to play games.

Her son groaned into his sheets loudly, jolting up to face the female he called his mother. He would usually glare in situations such as this, but his mother had become immune to his nasty looks, much to his dismay, so the look would just be a waste of energy. When he was younger, those looks could usually buy him an extra ten minutes of shut eye, but now at eighteen, they only shoved him further onto his mom's bad side, which was never pleasant for anyone involved.

"Levi, seriously? It's your first day at your new school, and you're already trying to make a horrible impression by being late. But, you know what? I refuse to allow you to make not only me, but also your brother late with your foolishness. Up. Now. You have fifteen minutes to get ready. After that, I'm taking your brother and leaving your ass here. Then, you can _walk _to school." She said sternly, strutting out and slamming the door behind her to leave the message clear that she was pissed and not putting up with Levi's bullshit.

Levi may have rolled his eyes at his mom's dramatization of _everything_, but he got the point loud and clear. Not even ten minutes later was he trotting down the stairs begrudgingly, looking casual in his faded gray Beatles t-shirt, paired with tight black skinny jeans, complete with his favorite black Converses. His nails were freshly painted black, his naturally narrow eyes lined at the bottom with charcoal eyeliner, his wrists adorned with various colored wristbands, and his undercut hairstyle was covered up by a grey beanie. It was a sharp contrast to his little brother's first day look: a light blue button down shirt, wrinkle-free khaki pants, stain-free plain white converses, all topped off with an expensive-looking watch similar to his mother's and a strikingly red bowtie. For a nine-year old, he'd definitely developed his mom's sense sharp of style.

Secretly, Levi had too, but wearing a bowtie would've completely fucked up the whole 'rock star' image.

Despite the nine year age gap, along with the major personality differences, Noël was the splitting image of his older brother look-wise. Both had sharp, defined facial features, raven-colored hair, intense eyes that were actually a shocking blue, but looked gray in certain lighting, and let's not forget the short, slim physiques.

Levi greeted no one as he dumped his bag onto the counter, took a seat beside his brother, whom was just finishing up his cereal, and crossed his forearms on top of the surface to shove his face in. Noël set his spoon down, staring at his sometimes intimidating older brother before finally working up the nerve to say something.

"So…you excited about your first day at your new school?" Noël asked, only to feel slightly rejected after receiving a low 'no' from his older brother, who obviously had no desire to keep the conversation going. He should've been used to it by now, since he'd been receiving this cold treatment ever since his parents announced their divorce about a month ago. He couldn't exactly blame his older brother, Noël being torn up about it just as much as Levi was, but just because their parents weren't together anymore didn't mean that _everything _had to change. Before the announcement from their parents, Levi had been Noël's best friend; they confided in and relied on each other before, but now…

It was as if they were strangers. They hadn't even had a normal conversation since the divorce.

He and Levi had relocated with their mom about a week ago from the small town they'd known all their lives to the bustling city of Trost. Today was their first day of school, Noël as a fourth grader and Levi as a senior, and needless to say, Noël was actually excited to see what this city had to offer.

Levi, on the other hand, wanted to stab himself.

In both of his eyeballs.

He was tired, hungry, moody, tired, annoyed…did he mention tired?

Levi hadn't really even known why he was so damn exhausted on his first day of school. Maybe it was mental exhaustion. His parents, who had been together the entirety of his life, were now separated; they sold his childhood home; his dad already had a new fucking girlfriend; he had to move halfway across the damn country, and his mom didn't even have the decency to at least get her children's opinion; and, to top it all off, he's being forced to start a new high school in the middle of the fucking year.

Levi was just…angry, at everyone. Angry at his dad for not calling even once since they'd moved. Angry at his brother for making him feel guilty for acting cold and distant, although that wasn't really the twerps fault, but whatever. But want to know who he was most angry with?

Like clockwork, his mother walked into the kitchen at that very moment, briefcase in one hand and a ten dollar bill in the other.

"Noël, don't forget your lunch, I've already made it. And Levi…" the woman trailed off, waiting for her son to acknowledge her presence, which he took his jolly good time doing. He kept his arms crossed on the table and lifted his head just enough to see her eyes. She outstretched the ten dollars towards him, which he took with a half-hearted thanks, and shoved the bill into his pocket to use as lunch money later.

The trio went on their way shortly after, first stopping at the elementary school to enroll Noël, Levi staying in the car the entire time, and eventually, it was just Levi and his mother riding alone together towards his new school. The air was silent, tense, and stifling, and Levi never turned his head once to even glance at his mother.

After some time, Levi peeped out his window only to see that they had indeed arrived at his new school: Trost High – Home of the Titans. Even with all the morning delays, they'd miraculously arrived on time, as proved by the massive crowd of kids located outside of the school. As soon as they parked, Levi jumped out the car, grabbing his backpack out of the backseat and stalking off up the cement steps as fast as his feet and legs would allow.

"Levi. Levi!" his mother called after him, her heel clicks increasing as she rushed to catch up with him. She latched onto his arm as soon as she did, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, turn around, and yank his arm away. He almost regretted the action once he saw the hurt flash across his mother's eyes.

"Levi, honey. You do realize that you're not the only one in this family that's hurting, right? Why are you making this harder on everyone by acting like this, huh? You're not making the situation and damn easier by acting like a brat." She hissed in a hushed manner, resting a hand on her hip as she searched for some type of sign of regret on her son's face, but all she found was his usual scowl. Levi scoffed, shaking his head as he readjusted the backpack strap on his shoulder.

"You didn't exactly make the situation any easier by moving us halfway across the world, either. _Mom."_ The malice dripping from the deep, developing male voice was enough to make her take a step back, blinking from surprise as she watched him turn his back towards her and walk to the front entrance, not sparing her a second glance. She shook it off, choosing to just deal with it when she got home from work later, and followed behind in order to officially enroll her son into Trost High.


	4. Levi the Rockstar (Part II)

_So, Levi's part sorta became longer than I thought, and I wanted to include it all, so here's part dos of some Levi-ness! Sorry for the long wait, y'all._

ENJOY! :)

**_Levi; the Rock Star_******

Levi and his mother walked into the front office together, the sight of a tanned older gentleman rummaging through his desk greeting them. The man froze as soon as he heard the door to his office creak, tilting his head upward to acknowledge the presence of the mother-son duo. He opted to ignore the frown on the boy's face and instead return it with a bright smile, a large graying mustache covering up a major portion of his top lip.

"Hello there! I don't believe I've seen you two around before…transfers?"

"Yes, well, Levi is. I'm Ms. Ackerman, his mother. You're Mr. Pixis, correct? We spoke over the phone." Ms. Ackerman greeted, extending her hand out towards the principal. He shook it gently and with a warm grin on his face before turning to do the same with Levi, who only stared at the limb in disgust before snorting and shaking his head. The principle's smile never faltered, not even for a fraction of a second, for he was used to the rebellious type of kin and knew how to deal with them. He slowly retracted his hand, returning his attention to the mother.

"Why, I never would've guessed you were his mother! Silly me, I mistook you for one of my students. I guess the 'ol noggin is slowing down on me. Pleasure to finally meet you both. I'm sure Levi here will excel at Trost High, particularly in our music department, if his musical abilities are as amazing as his musical taste," He gestured to the boy's shirt. "The Beatles? A classic. Went to one of their concerts when I was younger. I can assure you that I've never seen as many fainted women in one room since then."

Levi's interest was instantly piqued, his eyes meeting Mr. Pixis' for the first time since he walked in.

"Whoa, seriously? You went to one of their concerts?" The teen asked, disbelieve evident on his face as a smile ghosted on his lips. The principal nodded smugly, turning around to grab a triangular-shaped piece of plastic off of the shelves full of trophies and awards behind him. He plucked the object in between his two fingers, Levi watching closely and his mother slightly bewildered at the sudden subject change.

"August 23, 1966, New York City. I was ten years old when my dad took me to see my first concert: The Beatles US Tour. We had front row seats and everything. I'll tell you, that Lennon guy? Coolest guy ever. Even gave me this guitar pick after they had finished their performance." Levi ogled the object as if it was a creation from God himself, and jerked back from surprise when the pick was suddenly flicked towards his face, but he was able to catch the item before it hit the ground. His eyes were glistening in amazement as he examined the object, turning the black pick in his fingers before his eyes caught sight of two small letters written in white coloring. 'J.L.'

Levi's jaw hit the fucking floor.

"He signed it?!" He exclaimed, earning a chuckle from the older male.

"Yup. I've had that thing for about fifty years. It's quite the keepsake…But why don't you keep it?"

Levi's eyes never left their bulging state, nearly popping out of their sockets as the man's words sunk in.

"Seriously? Thanks!" Levi was full-on grinning, his mother finding her heart melting at the sight. It'd been a long time since she'd seen him so happy.

"Eh, no problem. An old man like me doesn't have any use for it beside memories, but you? I'm sure you'll find some use. Ohp! Class is starting soon. Why don't you go on ahead while I sort out some business with your mother? Stop by the front desk and ask for Erwin. He's the school's top student, and will be your tour guide for the day." Levi grimaced internally at the thought of having to follow some nerd around all day, but he resisted the urge to scowl towards the generous male as he worked his way out of the office, making a small waving gesture at both his mom and new principal.

_This place is still shitty, but at least the guy in charge is cool._ Levi thought to himself as he walked further down the hallway, working his way through groups of kids swiftly before getting slammed into by another human body, sending both him and the stranger toppling to the ground. Levi hissed as his back made contact with the cold tile, but he was otherwise fine.

But the look in Levi's eyes foretold that the stranger wasn't.

The blonde-haired stranger had landed on top of Levi, practically straddling the male, and he hopped up as soon as he noticed that dangerous glint in those bluish-gray eyes. He offered a fragile hand out to help the victim up, but Levi just glared at the limb, imagining the germs that swarmed across it, and got up without assistance, brushing himself off as he stood.

His attacker was petite and short, but still taller than him by a couple inches, much to Levi's dismay. He had large, blue eyes, complete with a small, pudgy nose. His blonde hair stopped just above his chin, cut into the shape of a bowl. The hair reminded Levi of a mushroom.

"Watch where the hell you're going, would ya?"

"I am so so sorry! I was in such a rush that I wasn't looking where I was going, I apologize one thousand millenniums–" Levi cut the guy off with a roll of the eyes, brushing past him before the he could say another word. Idiot.

"Wait!" Mushroom-head called after him, resulting in Levi whirling his head around to face the walking safety hazard with an annoyed gaze. "I haven't seen you around before…are you new?"

"And if I am…?" Levi gestured his hands as if to say 'What's your point, bro?'

"I'm Armin, Student Body Vice President. I'm guessing you're Levi? Erwin was supposed to meet you in the front office a while ago, but he was busy, so he sent me instead. Welcome to Trost!" Armin let out a nervous chuckle as Levi just stood there, wondering just why this was happening to him. "Oh! And I actually have your schedule…" Armin shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, letting the pack fall to the ground before rummaging through it, making a small grunt when he finally found the piece of paper. He scanned it briefly, eyes widening slightly and his mouth forming an 'oh' shape as he read.

"You have all honors classes." Armin reached his occupied hand out towards Levi for him to take, the shock never wearing off his face.

"Why the face? I don't look intelligent or some shit?" Levi asked, smirking internally as he noted the fear set in Armin's eyes, his outstretched hand beginning to quiver slightly.

"No! No, no, no, I swear I didn't mean that! I just-"Levi snatched the paper from his hand, murmuring out a 'whatever' before turning to walk away. He'd rather struggle with trying to find his classes on his own than spend another moment with that fucktard.

The bell rang soon after the raven retreated from the protesting blonde. Not paying attention to where he was walking, he read his schedule to himself, noting that the mushroom-headed boy was correct; he had all advanced classes.

_Human Bio, Calculus, Humanities, Psychology 101, Lunch, Gym, AP Lit, AP French. Hmm…Fuck calculus because I suck at math; Human Bio, Lit…Gym will be annoying as a piece of shit that won't come out, but I should still pass with flying colors…French? Oh, come on. Give me a challenge here. Psych 101…Sounds interesting. _

Levi's thoughts were interrupted after he slammed into a brick wall, his nose receiving the brunt of the impact.

Levi looked up with a permanent scowl perched on his face as his hand groped at his aching nose, seemingly startled by the obstacle. It was then that Levi realized something:

He hadn't ran into a brick wall, per se, but rather a person made of bricks.

He'd ran into a boy, who'd obviously not been affected at all by the sudden impact the two had made. The boy's hair was brown and messy, stray locks going all different directions, and he was much taller than Levi, but being only 5'2 in stature, Levi was used the common height differences. The boy wore a burgundy jersey with a gold-colored '4' in the middle, the name "Jaeger" written in a cursive, golden font at the top. From the waist down, he had ripped jeans, worn and faded; his bright yellow sneakers were dirty, smudges of a brown substance (probably mud) adorning various areas of the footwear. The guy was obviously a jock, a pudgy brown football firmly gripped underneath his arm as good as any indicator.

But what stopped Levi dead in his tracks from telling the boy off after scrutinizing the jock from head to toe was his _eyes_.

The orbs were big and round, giving the kid an innocent looking face, even if he was obviously ripped underneath that jersey. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, little golden specks peeking out in the shining irises. They reminded Levi of the ocean his grandmother would take him to when he was younger; the sweet old lady would tell him stories of her childhood in France, and they would fall asleep, Levi on his grandmother's lap, with the sounds of the ocean lulling them to sleep.

_I'm not religious, but if there was a picture of you in the bible, I'd be in the church praising God for you every Sunday._

_Do you have a map? I think I'm getting lost in your eyes…_

_Baby, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put 'U' and 'I' toge-_

_Hold the fuck up, am I seriously thinking of pickup lines? _

_This little shit._

After snapping himself back into a reality not filled with corny-as-hell pickup lines, it was then that he realized that the cause of his sudden daze was staring back at him, the boy's slightly bushy eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"Hey, are you OK? I didn't see you…"

The question resulted in Levi quickly diverting his eyes downward, his narrow cheeks turning a light red as he looked towards his shoes as he mumbled out a low "M'fine." Eren quickly caught on to Levi's subtle shyness and turned his lips upward, flashing a friendly smile towards the shorter of the two. After spending a few moments memorizing the dull color of his own squeaky clean sneakers, Levi finally looked up, and after catching sight of dazzling pearly whites, he swore on his life that this boy could and would be the death of him.

"I haven't seen you around before. You new?" The boy asked, pointing towards the schedule after receiving a curt nod from Levi. "May I? I could probably help you get around for the day. This school is big as hell, and it's pretty easy to get lo-"

"Ihavetogo." Levi managed to get the sentence out within a second, leaving both his dignity and the boy behind as he pushed past him and took the fuck off. Levi knew that the guy was only trying to be nice, but conversing had never been Levi's strong point in life, unless of course it came to insults and rude remarks. He never thought of himself as someone anyone would actually want to talk to; he was moody, (a fact his mother had learned firsthand very early in Levi's childhood), sarcasm was his forte, (a gift that not a lot of people appreciated), and being rude wasn't a personality trait for Levi, but more of a lifestyle.

As he rounded the corner leading to another hallway, he heard a loud shout from behind him: "I'm Eren, by the way!" Levi couldn't help but smile to himself.

_Eren. Suits the brat. _


End file.
